"A Woman Worth Seeing" Sermon for Sunday 12 June 2016

Sermon for Sunday 12 June 2016

4^th Sunday after Pentecost

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith

Luke 7:36-8:3

"(I am) A Woman Worth Seeing"

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

In spite of the novelty it seems to be for many folks I meet on the streets of Jerusalem, most of the time it is completely irrelevant that I am a preacher who happens to be a woman. Most Sundays, it doesn’t matter at all—except for the moment when I step up on my special footstool, because this pulpit was definitely built for a man’s height!

Most of the time, it truly doesn’t matter that I’m a woman in the pulpit, because the call of preacher is not to proclaim “What is God’s Good News for women?” but rather “What is God’s Good News for humans?”

This time, however, it is different. This morning it feels like it does matter that I’m a woman in this pulpit, because this week’s Gospel lesson is about a woman—specifically a woman judged to be unacceptable and unworthy to be seen.

This morning it matters that I’m a woman in this pulpit, because this week’s news was also filled with stories of women deemed unacceptable and unworthy to be seen:

In Iraq, nineteen Yazidi women were burned alive in iron cages for refusing to sleep with ISIS fighters.

In Latvia, the Lutheran Church voted to ban women’s ordination, and to revoke the preaching privileges of woman pastors who had been ordained outside the country.

Here in Jerusalem, a rabbi issued a decree that girls over the age of five are no longer allowed to ride bicycles.

And just in case we want to think these are things that happen in other places, in other neighborhoods, or in cultures much different from ours, this week a judge in California gave a young college athlete a short six-month prison sentence for committing a violent sexual assault against a woman. In his statement, the judge worried that a longer sentence would have had a “severe impact” on the young man.

These and other events of the past week did not just leave my mind or my heart when I stepped into the pulpit this morning. As I stand here, it is impossible for me to forget that in 2016 there are those who do not want to see me in a pulpit, or on a bicycle, or driving a car, or saying “no” to unwanted marriage or unwanted physical contact.

Is this morning’s Gospel lesson about women’s ordination? Is it about rape culture?  Does it say anything about girls riding bicycles?

No, it doesn’t. It’s simply the story of a woman—a woman judged not worth seeing. 

But it’s also the story of Jesus, and his ministry to “Open the eyes of the blind.” For as it is written earlier in the Gospel according to Luke:

"Christ and the sinful woman"
By Elena Cherkasova

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." (Luke 4:18-19)

“Do you see this woman?” Jesus asked Simon the Pharisee.

 It’s a silly question, because of course Simon saw the woman at Jesus’ feet. He wasn’t blind! The whole room saw her! She showed up, uninvited, and started crying. Then she used her hair to clean up the tears, and after that she anointed Jesus’ feet from a jar of alabaster that was far too nice for her to own. This whole drama caused such a scene that Simon, the host of the dinner party, said to himself (or perhaps said under his breath to any who could hear): “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him—that she is a sinner.”

So Simon clearly saw her with his own eyes. But still, Jesus asked, “Do you see this woman?”

The question really is: What did Simon see?

He saw that this was supposed to be a “men only” event.

He saw that she didn’t look “professional” with her hair down.

He saw that she didn’t have the qualifications to be hanging with the Pharisees.

He saw that she was out of place, out of bounds, out of order.

He saw that she was a sinner.

Simon didn’t really see the woman in front of him at all, because he could only see her sins. To him, she as a sinner and nothing more. Centuries of Bible translators seem to have taken Simon’s word for it, for this Gospel story is almost always titled, “A sinful woman anoints Jesus” or “Jesus forgives a sinful woman” – emphasis on the “sin.”

But what did Jesus see?

Palestinian woman with water jar
Jericho 1967
www.palestineremembered.com

Jesus saw that this uninvited woman brought the most precious thing she had—an alabaster box—and broke it open at his feet.

Jesus saw that she was a sinner—as we all are—but that she desired forgiveness.

Jesus saw her faith.

Jesus saw her great love for him.

I think if Jesus were providing a title for this Gospel narrative, he would call it: “The woman who showed great love.”

And maybe it would be subtitled: “Simon the Pharisee gets it all wrong.”

Simon the Pharisee gets it all wrong, because he thinks what makes him worthy to be seen with Jesus is his wealth and his hospitality. He thinks he’s worthy to be seen with Jesus because he follows the rules, because he sticks to protocol, because he’s a respected member of society, because he has surely not sinned as much as this woman.

He’s a Pharisee after all. And a man!

Simon didn’t realize he was blind, until through a parable Jesus opened his eyes to the truth: “Her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”

Simon saw a sinner. Jesus saw great love.

And what do we see? Do we see this woman? 

Do we really see any of the people around us -- Or do we see what we want to see?

This week, a man came into my office near the end of the day, just as I was about to leave. He wanted to talk to a priest, so the receptionist sent him back to my office. This is a pretty common occurrence, but this turned out to be an unusual visitor. He was dressed in yellow terrycloth bath towels, which he had fashioned into a skirt, and he carried a heavy backpack. He announced right away that he was a candidate for Messiah.

He told me of his great qualifications (he was a good debater apparently, and once said something very profound when he was about 13 years old). Also, he has been unable to hold a job for about 6 years, which means he has plenty of time for his duties as Messiah. He said he had come to Jerusalem to bring peace to the Middle East, and felt that he of all people possessed the right set of skills to do it.

Then he asked me to please call the president—or at least my bishop—and inform them that Jesus had returned and was in my office.

I listened to “Jesus” for a bit, and attempted to divert him by sharing some Scripture, especially where it says we will know “neither the day nor the hour” of Jesus’ coming. But my visitor just said, “Well, I know the day – because the day is now.”

We went around like this for a while, and at one point I wondered if he might have something dangerous in that heavy backpack. Finally, he left in frustration, and I admit I was relieved to have this latest incarnation of “Jerusalem Syndrome” out of my office.

About half an hour later, walking through Damascus Gate to my home, I saw him again. But this time, I really saw him. Instead of seeing a textbook psychiatric case study, or an interruption in my day, or a funny story to tell later over drinks, I saw someone’s son, halfway around the world from home, wrapped in yellow bath towels. I saw someone’s brother, confused in the intense heat of the day, trying to find rest in some shade, but sitting just inches from the loaded machine guns of six Israeli soldiers.

Instead of seeing someone with an unacceptable delusion, someone unworthy of my time, I saw this man as Jesus sees him: a beloved child of God. I saw a man of faith, even if it is a faith I don’t understand.

I saw a sinner like me, just trying to find someone who would appreciate his alabaster jar of ointment—the gift he desperately wanted to offer.

I stopped to talk with him, but this time, he didn’t see me. His mind had drifted elsewhere.

When Jesus asks, “Do you see this woman?” he challenges not only Simon the Pharisee, but also modern readers of the Gospel. Who do we see? Who would we rather not see? Who does society refuse to see?

The week’s news makes me wonder: Do we see women? More importantly, do we see them as more than objects of desire, but also as worthy of respect, worthy of protection, worthy of holding important positions of power?

Do we see refugees? Do we see them as people – fathers, mothers, sisters, aunts, uncles – or do we see “waves”, “hordes”, and a “crisis”?

In our context, we must ask ourselves:

Do we see the Israeli fathers, mothers, and children who are mourning their four loved ones killedin Tel Aviv this week – or do we see only “settlers” or “Zionists?”

Do we see Muslim men and women of faith unable to pray at Al Aqsa during the holy month of Ramadan because Israel revoked their permits? Or do we see 83,000 “terrorists”, likely to commit a violent attack at any moment?

All too often, we see what we want to see. We see people as valuable only insofar as they meet our needs and purposes. We see them as acceptable and worthy only if they fit into our cultural expectations, our gender paradigms, our political platforms, or our narratives.

But again and again, Jesus opens the eyes of the blind. Again and again, our Lord Jesus restores and protects the humanity, the dignity, and the worth of each and every person. He sits at the table with sinners. He heals lepers. He preaches to Gentiles. He blesses children. He casts out demons from the possessed. He includes women in his ministry—as it says at the end of our Gospel lesson today, he went from town to town with Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and many other women. Jesus’ ministry was always inclusive, never exclusive.

Even from the cross, Jesus insists on the humanity of his executioners, saying, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

And when the woman with the alabaster jar was at his feet, and no one else could or would see her at all;

when even she could not see herself apart from her sins,

Jesus turned to her and said, “Your faith has saved you, go in peace.”

Thanks be to God, by the cross and the resurrection, by Water and the Word, and by his presence in the bread and the wine, Jesus opens our eyes. Jesus opens our eyes to see every human being as made in God’s image, as saved by grace, as acceptable in his sight, as worthy to be seen.

He recovers our sight, so that we may even see ourselves as he sees us – as beloved children, saved by grace through faith, apart from anything we do or fail to do.

Thanks be to God, we were blind, but now we see!